The Boy Without Fear
by Tostig
Summary: In Which Hal is messed up, Bruce is even more messed up and wow those first Justice League meetings are going to be awkward. After Hal's Dad's death, his wife takes their three children back to her home town. Which just happens to be Gotham City. Predictably this ends with two of the children getting involved with the gangs and villains of Gotham


**Note: Okay so Green Lantern crossovers tend to mostly be about characters in other series getting Green Lantern Rings, which is kind of unfair to Hal, John, Guy and Kyle because they're great characters, but especially to Hal because it's always his origin story that gets stolen. It isn't like you have a lot of "after Parallax killed the GLC Stiles Stilinski was given the last Green Lantern Ring and became the sole protector of the universe" stories. So, I decided to do a story where Hal gets a chance to be an important character in another story.**

 **First of all, I should specify that the Batlantern is only going to be in the last chapter because in DC Comics Bruce is three or four years older than Hal and I'm sticking to it.**

 **Warnings for: Hal having romantic feelings for other boys at the age of eleven, if you have a problem with that you should probably go. The bigger warning is for implied William Hand/Hal Jordan. Child abuse, psychological issues, and the attempted murder of a child. But those are par for the course of Gotham. Oliver Queen is included in this story because of a comics headcanon that I'm fond of that has him going to school with Bruce.**

It had been a few months since Martin Jordan had died.

This was not really a surprise since on a multiversal scale it was just one of those things. Just like how the billionaire parents would almost always get shot down if they went into the alley, like how the amount of people trying to assassinate elderly lighthouse keepers apparently quadrupled around the time their sons were taking over foreign thrones, how space pods from Sector 2813 had a tendency to crash in Kansas and not in Soviet Russia. Test pilots tended to hand their flight jackets to their sons immediately before crashing planes into the Californian desert. It was one of those things that happened.

Of course, if you were looking at it from the perspective of a cosmic being, the knowledge of the fact this happened would go a long way to explaining exactly how the Jordan family ended up exactly as fucked up as it did.

Jessica Jordan, the wife of this deceased test pilot, could hardly stand to live in the place where her husband had grown up anymore. More than that, the place where his ancestors going back hundreds of years had grown up. Normally a parent would not remove their children from their friend groups, from their family, but Jessica had had enough of California, had had enough of Larry trying to make good with her. She needed to get away, no matter what anyone else said.

She had been born in Gotham, and even though she had heard from her old friends that Gotham wasn't safe anymore, hadn't been since the Waynes had died, sometimes she missed the Jewish community that she had grown up in. Besides, Gotham had precisely no Air Force bases than ten-year-old children would be able to break into while her back was turned. While she was a stickler for safety, she ranked supervillains slightly below planes on the danger scale. She absolutely would not entertain the possibility that the issue was less the safety of her children and more how much they reminded her of Martin.

Being trapped in a car with three boys for several days almost made her rethink the entire plan, though.

As the car pulled into the dingy city, she took a glance back towards her three sons for the first time in hours.

The youngest son, James, was currently asleep. He was eight years old, such a good boy and she knew that he would settle down into life in a new city with ease, he was bright and knew how to keep his head down. Or at least he did when a certain someone wasn't busy being a bad influence.

The oldest son, Jack, was reading a letter, she hadn't been aware that he was receiving love letters yet, but he was studious and on track to being able to attend an Ivy League college in two years. After which he would enter Harvard Law and eventually become a District Attorney. It was all planned out, he would have two children, Jessica couldn't be prouder of him. It made perfect sense that girls would be after him, he had a bright future and he was safe. What girl wouldn't want that?

Her eyes flicked to Trouble after she carefully avoided a car swerving into her lane. She almost wished they hadn't.

Trouble seemed to be attempting to bite his older brother's ear off. A deft hand was all that all that was keeping a shower of blood from ruining the upholstery and her from having to spend two hours of the day waiting in the emergency room.

"Harold!" Jessica snapped, and the two boys threw themselves apart as if they had been scalded.

"Jack stole my letter!" The boy didn't even have the good grace to sound repentant and she noted with an inward sigh that he was wearing the ridiculous jacket again. It came down past his knees.

"You will make other friends in Gotham," Jack said, making a face as he read over one passage in particular. "You should let it go quickly, like ripping off a band aid."

"William isn't a _friend_!" Came the inevitable snap, as Harold started trying to snatch the letter back.

"I should hope not," the older boy was much taller and held the paper just out of reach. "He's creepy, you could do much better in the friend department."

Harold snarled, flinging his seatbelt off and attempting to climb his older brother like a tree. "He is not creepy! He's just- he's just lonely!"

Jessica did not particularly like the boy who her middle son had met at her husband's funeral, Jack was correct in his description, although she didn't feel like a thirty-year-old woman should be referring to a child as creepy.

There was a bigger problem here though.

 _William isn't a_ _ **friend**_ _._

Unbidden, Jessica suddenly remembered years ago, one of her husband's friends dying. He had been sick and in pain, and Martin had held his hand while he died.

She had asked Martin later how he'd met his friend, and had gotten a disconcerting response.

"He wasn't a friend."

As a straight woman, she shared her desire to not date a bisexual man with a lot of her compatriots and had put all concerns about her husband at the back of her mind, where she couldn't examine them.

But as she looked at her son now, she felt a wave of nausea rising in her stomach. Snatching the letter from Jack's hands, she threw it out of the car window.

That lifestyle wasn't safe.

She had to keep Harold safe.

Oliver was staring at Bruce's notes, and it was starting to rankle.

Actually, that one was a lie.

It had started to rankle twenty minutes ago.

Now he was starting to get upset.

"Oliver." He said, snapping his book shut. "You are aware that you are a year older than me, and thus learned the theories of the Ionian philosophers months ago. Correct?"

Oliver made a concerted effort to pop his bubblegum right in Bruce's ear at that. Bruce barely contained the urge to smack him with his heavy text book.

Bruce had spent the two years after his parents' death relatively peacefully, at least in contrast to this, but one day a few months ago, Oliver Queen had come barrelling back into his life (they'd first met at a banquet his parents had taken him to when he was eight), put an arm around Bruce's shoulders and dragged him off to some diner in downtown Gotham. It hadn't even had a health certificate.

It probably said something about him that he found training to be a vigilante to be more peaceful than having to deal with someone wanting to be his friend.

"So," Oliver started, apparently oblivious to Bruce's newfound desire (or possibly returned, he remembered having a similar urge this morning) to push him out of the nearest window, and Bruce had to thank whichever universal power had taken enough pity on him to make it so that he only had to deal with one of these idiots. "Tommy was saying that he wanted another fight at Gotham Academy. Next Tuesday."

Gotham Academy was the second private school in Gotham. Although Anders Preparatory Academy was considered the premier one, one that students from across the country were involved in. Hence Bruce suddenly having to deal with the annoyance of Oliver Queen in his life. Gotham Academy was somewhat more affordable for the members of Gotham society who were not even millionaires, and actually offered several scholarships for each grade. It prioritized academics more than money. Obviously, what this amounted to in practice was that the students of the two schools hated each other. The students of Anders Preparatory Academy regarded those at Gotham Academy as Nouveau Riche upstarts, while the Gotham Academy students regarded those attending Bruce's school as snobs who couldn't change a lightbulb without calling their butlers.

Naturally, it was the kind of thing that Bruce hadn't cared in the slightest about since his parents had died, and he had been somewhat surprised to find that Oliver found the entire thing annoying too.

Actually, the only reason he cared at all was that there _were_ dangerous people attending Gotham Academy, and the last thing anyone needed was Anderson Crowne being stabbed by the son of the head of the Russian mob. Again.

Someone needed to stop the idiots.

"So then I said to Tony 'Don't steal rolls'" Oliver was saying.

"Oliver are you-" Bruce started. "Are you quoting Anna Karenina at me?"

"You weren't listening." That was a pout. Bruce thought about reminding Oliver that he was the older boy here again.

"No, I'm just surprised that you've read a book," Bruce stated blandly.

"The first twenty chapters at least." Oliver was grinning. "Come on. You know you want to help me. You know you want to get revenge against him."

Bruce refrained from pointing out that twenty chapters of Anna Karenina was not that many pages in, and thus reading twenty chapters was not that great of a feat.

"Who has Tommy got his sights on?" He asked finally.

"I get that you have some ridiculous lofty goals and have probably been wanting something like this since you were in diapers." Hal was swinging his legs back and forth as the lounged on Jack's bed. "Because you are completely lame by the way."

He had snagged the pudding from his brother's lunch and had the spoon stuck in his mouth. Two flavors. Vanilla and chocolate at the same time. Jackpot.

"It is seven o'clock in the morning, Hal," Jack looked completely done with him already.

"But see," Hal continued, he never really paid that much attention to Jack anyway. "What I don't get is why I can't just go to PS28 like Jimbo gets to."

He dropped the empty pudding cup on the bed and Jack picked it up with a sigh. He tossed it towards the trash can but it bounced off the rim. Instead of ruining his dignity further by picking it up, Jack fell onto the bed next to his brother.

"Because Gotham Academy has its first classes at your age, and fifth grade is when the public school kids in Gotham start dealing drugs. I don't get why you needed to steal my pudding."

"Mine's butterscotch, I'll trade you. I know how much you like butterscotch."

"I hate butterscotch, Hal."

"That's why I offered." His brother was laughing and Jack decided right then that he was going to cut him out when they were adults. "But do you think that Mom's heard the rumors about boarding school?" Hal asked, in a much smaller voice suddenly. He almost never spoke in a smaller voice. "Don't think that she'd be much into that."

"The rumors that if you send your kids to boarding school you don't have to deal with their bullshit all week? I think that's rather the point in your case."

Bruce was pouring over a book when Alfred came in.

He had the perfect plan.

All he needed to do was get out of school by the age of 14, and then he would be free.

Free to study parkour under masters in Paris. Free to apprentice himself to the world's greatest detective. Free to learn sleight of hand from the magician Giovanni Zatara in Las Vegas.

He'd realized long ago that attempting to complete his education in the normal manner would merely take time away from learning the skills that might actually be useful to him. If he started to learn all he needed to at the age of 21 when he graduated college, he would already be way past his prime when he finished training.

"Master Queen to see you, sir."

Bruce barely looked up as Oliver stepped into the room. "I talked to you two days ago. What do you want?"

Ollie snagged his pastry before he could do anything to stop him.

"Will you jump into my grave that quickly?"

"Oh! I'm sorry Master Wayne!" Came the faux horrified response. "Luckily I bring a peace offering." He slid a file across the desk.

At this point, it probably bore mentioning that one of the boys in Bruce's grade attempted to work as some kind of information broker. He was the fifth son of a prominent mafioso in the city and as such had no real way of gaining the prestige in the organization, any jobs that could help him gain the respect of the family were quickly snapped up by his older brothers. Naturally, Bruce hated him and could most likely find any information that he was selling within a few hours. Oliver, being Oliver, had no such issues and would cheerfully walk up to him and hand him a hundred just to see if any girls were "putting out". It was ridiculous.

It should also bear mentioning that when this boy graduated high school and attempted to find work as an actual information broker, he was promptly shot to death by the Gotham mob. 7 bullets in the chest, the police report said.

"He says that Rivera has picked up a new buddy, some kid named Jordan. Apparently Jewish."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at that.

"I- you do realise that I can translate slur, right?"

Bruce decided to studiously ignore that. "Is he any real threat, this Jordan?"

"Apparently Rivera was joking about making him his _consigliere_?"

Incidentally, while Bruce's school had some children who were related to (particularly successful) mobsters, Gotham Academy was rife with them. There was Rivera, obviously. Tanaka, who was well known as the son of a shingiin in the Yakuza. Pertuz: In line to take over the Columbian mob. Ivanovich: Russian mob. Countless.

Bruce kept tabs on all of them, well aware that they could graduate to being his future enemies at any moment. He logged their weaknesses, just in case he needed to refer to them in the future.

Hal Jordan was a popular kid.

Well okay, he had to admit that that was entirely based on his life in Coast City.

In Coast City, a kid with a bright smile and a good sense of humor would get at least six people who liked being around him.

But Gotham was weird.

This school apparently had a detective club, for fuck sake, and to make that even worse there was a rumor that they'd actually stumbled onto a few actual real life crimes.

He was fairly certain that the kid behind him was the leader of his own gang. At eleven. Rivera, his name was. Rivera was the only person in this school who really paid any attention to him.

Hal didn't look back as a rolled up ball of paper smacked him on the back of the head and dropped the ball onto the desk of the girl next to him.

Sybil Silverlock, he thought her name was.

She opened it up and shook her head.

"No Harold. I think this is for you." No chance of fobbing it off on someone else, then.

 _Meet me at the station, after school._ The note said, sending off ominous waves.

At this point, the differences between Gotham City and Coast City should be noted.

Gotham City was already three tiers deep in its messed-up situation. The mob ruled the streets, supervillains were already starting to come crawling out of the woodwork, and yes there were a few people who seemed to have super powers running around.

Coast City, by contrast, wouldn't have its first alien contact for another fourteen years, had pretty much no supervillains hanging around (unless you particularly wanted to count Carol Ferris and William Hand, but there isn't any particular reason why you would, they were eleven) and Bito Wladon was still in Eastern Europe, so he wasn't exactly causing trouble.

In short Coast City was just a normal city, so maybe a kid from Coast City could be forgiven for making mistakes based on what they would have done in their home city.

Hal Jordan was not making such a mistake.

Somewhere in his head, he had made a decision. Whether it was conscious or subconscious didn't really matter. The fact of the matter was that he had realized that the thought of speaking to the boy made him feel fear.

Fear was something he hated.

Fear was something he never wanted to feel.

So as a result, he merely decided to go and talk to the boy. To force that fear down until it stopped popping up.

Later he would realise that it had been a bad decision.

Later he would be trapped in a building with no way out, and a sack filled with files on his shoulder.

But the actions of fourteen-year-old Hal Jordan held no relevance to eleven-year-old Hal Jordan.

His thing was willpower. Not foresight.

The biggest difference between Coast City and Gotham City, Hal thought, was the cultural differences. Also, the lack of Boba anywhere to be found in this New Jersey hellhole.

So, he sighed and pushed a straw into his iced coffee.

"I have to admit that I find you interesting." Came the voice of the boy beside him, currently drinking an oddly sugary concoction.

Hal wasn't sure whether that was scary or not. You could read a lot about people from how they drank their coffee. Someone who took it black was just your standard tough guy, not interesting at all. But the syrup mixed with the scary aura emanating from the guy? Definitely the type of person who would stab you with a pen for a laugh.

"You transfer into the school from the West Coast. In the middle of the term, no less. Then you absolutely ignore my advances for most of the day. It was quite frankly infuriating."

Hal hummed, indicating that he was listening, even though he was really watching the people around them.

"But honestly. The reason I'm most interested is… I saw you last night."

Hal actually stopped at that. Looking at his companion for the first time. He was wearing sunglasses, so his facial expression was actually pretty implacable.

He'd snuck out of the house last night. He'd wanted to get away from his mother, but also he'd wanted to find a phone box to call William, let him know what had happened. Maybe set up some kind of phone call itinerary. Most of the phone boxes in a block radius had been smashed up by street gangs, or had glass and used condoms inside. One actually had a couple having sex right in front of him. Eventually, he'd found one outside an Italian restaurant.

The phone call had been the standard "Will, I'm missing you" "Hey Hal, I'm watching a war documentary" followed by a long description of the effects of mustard gas on a human. "So, I'll call you in two days if you want." It was just the voice he wanted, some semblance of normalcy.

That was when he'd heard the noise.

"Was that… a gunshot?" He asked the empty air around him.

Obviously, he was scared.

Obviously, that had made him force himself to edge closer to the noise.

He peered around the corner just in time to see a man stepping back into the restaurant, leaving a body bleeding out in an alleyway.

What should he do?

William would tell him to touch the body. But Hal didn't really want to do that. Wait did the fact that he didn't want to mean that he should? He moved further into the alleyway, some stupid desire to prove that he wasn't a coward flowing through him and reached a hand toward the body.

Something had clattered against the wall just then, and he'd fled into the night.

"Yeah, that was me." The redheaded boy next to him was saying it with what seemed to be a lot of pride.

Hal tilted his head. "That was you?"

"Don't think Uncle Serge is the type not to kill people who come across him just because they're kids."

Hal felt a shiver of fear at that.

So obviously he ended up going round the kid's house for tea.

The fight between the Prep School and the Academy kids had ended up going predictably.

The Prep School kids had made a lot of bluster but had ended up scattering pretty quickly after the big guns had come out.

One of the boys was crying, Tanaka had apparently stabbed him through the hand with a knife, and someone seriously needed to start searching those boys before they actually hurt someone.

Oliver had gone to help that boy, apparently keeping some bandages on his person at all times. Which… honestly, with Oliver, was probably the best possible turn of events. He tended to get injured regularly, just from his own stupid decisions.

Bruce was free to corner his two targets.

"This ends." It was the beginnings of a growl that in the future, would make criminals run for cover, but right now. Right now, it was coming out of a skinny fourteen-year-old, and Rivera would have no chance of losing.

"I think you'll find it was you faggots who started this." Came an answering growl. Sharp teeth ground together.

"You making a grab for power, I will not have the next generation of the mafia…"

"He's a friend you little psycho!"

Bruce opened his mouth to tell the boy to please kindly cut back on the slurs because it was pathetic and didn't impress anyone.

The slam of the second-floor window just distracted him. The yelled, "Get away from my brother!"

As did the fluttering of what appeared to be an incredibly oversized flight jacket. He was having serious concerns about what was considered acceptable to wear at Gotham Academy.

Mostly the thing that stopped him from voicing that particularly biting remark was the fact that he was kicked in the face a moment later.

That was the story of how an eleven-year-old broke the boy who would be the Dark Knight's nose with a sneak attack.

That kind of portend for the future of a relationship almost never happens.

 **End Note: Just in case anyone is worried, there will probably be some Green Lantern References in this story. But there won't be any aliens. The two characters planned to be part of the story at this point are Alan Scott (Green Lantern I) as he lives in Gotham in the comics and is an important part of Hal's life, and Bito Wladon (Sonar), an Earth Lantern Villain who has been pretty much irrelevant since the color wheel was introduced in GL comics but of whom I am unexpectedly fond.**

 **Unfortunately, Bruce is spending a lot of time around people he finds annoying so far, he should hurry up and soften towards them so that more of the signature Gotham Bruce kindness shows through.**


End file.
